A Dream in the Night
by WhittyOne
Summary: A Romano resolution, if you will... Please be aware this tiny little work is based heavily on season nine spoilers. As always, feedback is adored...


DISCLAIMER: Evil men at NBC really like to torture me. They let me meet this Rocketman and I became a swooning fan. No sooner did my love take flight when on a warm and muggy night they led him out onto the roof. He dropped his clpboard and then - Poof! With one lash of chopper tail my hero fell and I did wail. His arm was gone, his spirit broke. Wells and Orman? What a joke. And now they only make me crabby by shunning him and pimping Abby. So I took up my flaming sword - okay, so it's just my cheap keyboard - and I penned this little scene: the way I think things should have been.  
  
In case you aren't aware, Elizabeth Corday isn't mine. Neither is Robert Romano, but man! He should be. I'd never sever anything but his ties to those who would destroy him. And maybe a pair of suspenders or two....  
  
This little ficlet is based on spoilers for upcoming episodes. God only knows what will finally make it to the screen, but still --- consider yourself warned.  
  
He sat bolt upright in the bed, the sheet falling away from his sweat- soaked chest. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and his heart was pounding so loud he swore the walls of the bedroom were vibrating with it's resonance. He grabbed his left arm, just above the elbow, fingers exploring, face twisted in a grimace of horrified expectation...  
  
But his fingertips found only taut muscle, unbroken skin.  
  
He let his eyes adjust to the dim, then raised his left hand in front of his face. Flex, extend, clench, stretch --- digits moving fine. Absurdly, he stuck his fingers in his mouth and bit down hard. A yelp of pain escaped his throat. Sensory function definitely intact.  
  
"Robert?"  
  
The voice, soft, feminine, and a delicate, graceful arm slipped up his chest to his shoulder. Nimble fingers caressed neck and earlobe. "Darling, what's the matter?"  
  
He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Not sure."  
  
The arm applied pressure, pulling him back into the warm embrace of bed and woman. He turned his head...  
  
Tousled auburn curls nearly hid the luminous blue of one eye. Creamy pale skin lined with concern. He reached out and caressed one cheek with the fingers of his left hand.  
  
I definitely feel her. Warm, soft, smooth.  
  
"Elizabeth?"  
  
"Yes, Robert?" Husky timbre.  
  
"I think I had a nightmare."  
  
She rose up just enough to drape her (bare) upper body over his. "I'm so sorry, love. What happened?" He shivered from the memory - or was it from her fingertips, which were plucking lightly at the auburn hair that dusted his chest? He felt a hysterical chuckle rising in his throat, and he let it go, laughing out loud. His merriment must have been catching, for soon she was giggling, too. "What?"  
  
"I - you won't believe me if I tell you," he wiped at his eyes.  
  
"So what? It was just a dream..."  
  
He kissed her forehead tenderly. "My arm was severed in a freak clipboard accident." She looked up at him incredulously.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"Yep. Lost my clipboard on the chopper pad at County and - whack! - tail rotor of the damn thing sliced my arm clean off." More laughter, born of relief, bubbled behind his lips. "The chopper, not the clipboard." Elizabeth rose up on her arm, fixing him with a withering stare.  
  
"Robert! That's not funny! That's horrifying! Good Lord!"  
  
"You're telling me?" Romano raised his eyebrows. "It was my dream, remember? I thought I was living it."  
  
"How awful."  
  
"No kidding." He shuddered. "I got banned from the OR, Anspaugh took Chief of Surgery away, they gave my Chief of Staff job to Weaver, and busted me down to ER Chief."  
  
Elizabeth swatted his shoulder. "Now you're just making things up."  
  
"No, I'm not, I swear!" Robert looked at her innocently. "There was this slimebag alderman who dragged Weaver into bed with him - the sleazy way, not the fun way - and they started this little game of quid pro quo, and the next thing I knew, I was out on my ass."  
  
Elizabeth blanched, then grinned. "You must really despise Kerry if your subconscious goes around inventing such machinations for her to star in." She shook her head.  
  
He chuckled once more. "I bet it was something sexual."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"You know what they say about dreams, Lizzie. The hot and wet ones are always about stress and politics and the futility of life in general. But the intricately detailed ones, the ones with layers of sub-plot and intrigue are always the product of a highly sexualized, erotically stimulated mind."  
  
Beneath the blankets, her hand groped for purchase. Found it. He groaned.  
  
"So basically what you're saying is that you're a horny little bastard..." Her voice was low and gravelly, and she propped her chin on his chest, eyes ablaze with challenge. He coughed a bit.  
  
"A piece of advice, Lizzie. Never use the word 'little' when taking such delicate issues in hand."  
  
With a playful growl, she rolled onto her back, pulling him above her. Lips met, parted, tongues explored -- God, she tasted so sweet -- and she was soft and warm and welcoming beneath him. His hands plunged into the glorious depths of her hair as they kissed, as hers trailed paths of fire down his back, and she was moving, shifting, guiding...  
  
He pulled back abruptly. Her eyes opened in concern. "What is it?"  
  
"You're here because you want to be, right?" His voice was thick with meaning. Her expression softened, warmed. She caressed his face lovingly.  
  
"Of course." She tried to pull him down once more but he resisted again.  
  
"Why do you want to be here?"  
  
"Robert --"  
  
"Please?"  
  
Elizabeth sighed a bit. "I'm here because I want to be with the man I love. The man who loves me, who loves my child."  
  
He quirked a grin. "And that's me, right?"  
  
With a groan, Elizabeth swept the blankets up over their heads, enclosing them in a linen womb of safety, security, and love. 


End file.
